


The Dragon, the Museum, the Wall

by SparrowAndLuck



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-12-27 02:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowAndLuck/pseuds/SparrowAndLuck
Summary: Heavily shortened events for a fanfic I was going to write months ago but my depression got the better of me so whoops here you go.





	1. The Marketplace

She hated him the first time she met him. Up against a wall, with her arm nearly broken, snarling insults to a man she didn't know for a crime she didn't commit.

 

She hated the city from the very first moment she arrived. Too many lies, too much conspiracy, too much murder. Damned be it all, she just wanted to get an artifact from Calcelmo.

 

They laughed, denying her request for quill and parchment, carelessly throwing her belongings in a chest and not-so-subtly taking her gold.

 

They didn't laugh when the boom reverberated through the city days later, fire and smoke licking from the entrance of Cidna Mine.

 

And there she was, covered in blood and partly charred. The King in Rags was dead. As was nearly everyone else imprisoned down there.

 

So they made her thane.

 

Gave back her belongings, rewarded her with a home she wouldn't sleep in, with a signet ring that meant nothing, and a housecarl.

 

And she _hated_ the housecarl.


	2. "Not a mage."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should be making content for my next D&D session. Whoops.

"I'm not a mage."

 

He was puzzled, the housecarl. He'd heard the stories, seen the damage left behind. "But you escaped using magic?"

 

"I'm not a mage," she repeated. "I just know a few spells."

 

He still didn't know her name. She knew his, when the jarl introduced them for the second time. He wasn't blind to see her bristle at the sight of him.

 

He thought she'd turn the help down, turn and walk out.

 

He was an ex-soldier, but he struggled to keep his ground under her gaze.

 

She'd gotten what she'd come here for, at least. A sword, deep in the ruins of the Dwemer Halls of the keep. No explanation to what it was. Just... rolled it up in some cloth and strapped it to her pack.

 

On the road, they didn't talk. In a tavern, they rarely talked. Every attempt he made to try and converse and eventually apologize was shut down before he could get more than three sentences out. 

 

So, why was he here?


	3. Solitude, physically and mentally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah look at that, there's some mod content.

She didn't bother telling him where they were heading either. Eventually, he got the gist of it, as the roads turned rockier and the air bitter. He'd only been to Solitude once, to enlist.

His sister had encouraged him, but never pushed. He'd went, and become a soldier, and he was damn good at it.

Until he lost his eye. Retired, they told him.

Less useful, he knew.

But not useless, so they stuck him in the city until a useful thane would come along.

He'd been so caught up in his brooding that he nearly bumped into his her. She only turned her head and scowled before continuing over the bridge.

Dragonbridge. He didn't realize he'd been out of it for so long.

It was nearly sundown, and she was stopping them for the night. Even though it wasn't much farther to Solitude, the nights got unbearably cold for travelers who were unprepared.

The inn (Four Shields, was it?) was cozy enough, a few regulars looking up before going back to their cups. From the other side of the room, his thane was arguing lowly with the innkeeper while he warmed his hands by the fire.

Eventually she threw her hands in the air, and returned with the key to a room for the night. Her face was dark as she spoke.

"There's only one bed."


	4. Museums, displays, and artifacts, oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, now here's the mod stuff.

Eventually, after too much arguing, she forced him to sleep on the bed, and took the chair in the corner instead. 

Which made sense why she was all the more in a sour mood in the morning. 

They left again without incident, continuing up the path a few more hours until the tall city gates of Solitude loomed into view. 

He'd never made it that far into Solitude, anyway. Past the market, and straight into Castle Dour. After that, he was shipped off to where ever they happened to need him. 

So of course he was surprised when they continued through the market, past a little bookshop and the catacombs entrance, and towards the Blue Palace. From afar, the Blue Palace looked regal and majestic, but up close... the war had taken its toll. The gardens, while well cared for, were sparse, and there was paint chipping away from the walls to reveal dull stone underneath. 

Yet, even before that, a massive building loomed to his right, butted up against a neat row of houses and a stone fence. 

She didn't let him have time to make assumptions before marching right up the double steps and pushing the door open. Dropping her pack with a heavy thump, she retrieved the sword she'd gotten from the keep, wandering to another room. 

He had to admit, he was not expecting a museum to be their destination, nor was he expecting it to look so sadly empty. 

When she emerged again from the set of double doors, his thane just waved her hand in the air, her tone flat. 

"Welcome to the Dragonborn Gallery."


	5. Don’t You Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done on mobile, sorry for any spelling

Truthfully, he’d had his fair share of bad times with High Elves. 

But, he’d never had another Nord nearly take his head off for making a snide comment about them. 

The curator, he found out, ran this place as best he could. The elf and his thane were long time friends, and she was here to help him collect artifacts and trinkets across Skyrim. 

At the moment it was mostly books, carted over from some university someplace outside of Skyrim, a long long ways a way from here. 

So he stayed quiet, out of the way until he knew she was done with whatever important discussion they were having in the backroom of the library. He could only catch snippets—mentions of a stone and a forge, and perhaps a visit to a little village...? 

And her name. His ear prickled when it sounded out, barely registering in his mind. Wispy and light, nothing like the woman he knew now. 

Thane Ihylin. 

———————

Argis was more than surprised to find he had his own room to sleep in. Half expecting to find himself at the inn for the night, the housecarl couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over the room. It was sparse, with one bed and a dresser, and clearly meant to house several others. But for now, it was his.

———————

Crumpled papers and low light from the candle at her side did nothing to help the pounding of her head and the throb of her shoulder. 

She remembered too clearly the snarl on his face when he had her pinned to the wall, arm nearly twisted from the socket and howling for mercy. 

Ihylin scrubbed her face in her hands. 

She couldn’t fight. 

She’d tried to, in the mines, picking up an axe and swinging it into the wall to test the grip. 

Only to drop it when it sent nerves skittering up her arm and down her spine like some deranged pack of spiders beneath the skin.

So she mustered her strength and magicka reserves and swore to burn the entire mine to the ground. 

In a sense, she did. 

She’d do it again if casting didn’t make her so damned tired. 

Sighing, the woman managed a little ball of frost at her fingertip, flicking it toward the wavering flame of the candle to watch it sputter out. 

Hopefully, she could manage to ignore the snoring in the other room. 


	6. Chapter 6

_Fwip._

He never thought being a housecarl could  be so... boring. 

_Fwip. Fwip._

For every page she turned in the library study, he’d make a lap in one of the halls of the museum. 

_Fwip._

Once around the Hall of Oddities, taking in the sets of cards in cases on the wall. 

_Fwip._

Once around the Hall of Lost Empires, admiring the displays of Dwemer tools, openly scowling at an Ayleid lexicon.

Around the gemstones hidden behind glass, lifelike models of bears and elk staring back at him with glassy eyes, quietly observing the fish in their tank in the wall. 

_Fwip._

Around the Cultural Hall, Daedric Hall, back again through the Ancients Hall to stare at the Nordic items, before wandering back towards the library where Thane Ihylin sat hunched over the desk. 

It’d only been about half an hour. 

Argis would go absolutely mad at this rate. 

***

Research, for Ihylin, was a necessary evil. While not particularly fond of it, it was useful to know where she was going and what she was getting in to. Aureyn had a lot more to do as the curator, since he pretty much ran the entire operation by himself. 

If she’d remembered right, he used the last of his grant money from the old university in to set up here.

He’d been lucky, she figured. The building used to be an old temple to Talos, but since the Dominion took root and forbade worship, well... 

The old elf respected worship though, even if members of his own race didn’t. There were still statuettes in the very basement of the building, tucked away in unassuming boxes with the rest of the spare things.

Her train of thought was forcibly derailed when she heard the door open again, heavy boots scuffing across the wood and crossing towards the stairs. 

She also realized she’d stopped reading, finger paused over some unimportant line on the page. 

And when footsteps continued to make the floorboards creak above her head, her already thin patience was drawn to a hairs breath to snapping. 

“Argis.”

The footsteps froze, a book fluttering shut. 

Then, “My thane?” 

Sweet gods, it was going to be difficult to deal with him. 

***

Ihylin was irritated when she called him by name. 

If it wasn’t the warning tone that she used, it was the fuming silence after he’d called her by title. Honestly, he could be a little dense sometimes, but he was starting to think she hated being called by a title. 

So he found himself in the marketplace shortly after with a scribbled list and a pouch of gold, and had enough common sense to make himself disappear for a while. 

And, by the looks of the list, they were going to be traveling again soon. 

***

"If you don't mind me asking-"

"I do mind."

 _Gods_ , she was impossible to get along with.

Gritting his teeth, he tried another method.

"I'd like to at least be prepared for the climate if we're going to be traveling again so soon. Rather not be unprepared in the middle of the snowfields with nothing but light furs."

Ihylin had to keep herself from snapping her jaw shut.

"Whiterun hold, to collect some items. We'll be near enough to the city of Whiterun that you don't have to pack heavily."

"What are we going to be getting?"

Snarling, she slammed her hands on the desk hard enough to startled him. " _Artifacts_ , Argis! What else would you like me to tell you? That we're delving into a dungeons deep to collect the left asscheek of the Dragon Priest? You'll find out when we get there. Find something to do, and leave me to my work. We'll leave tomorrow after the sun rises."

Staring at her, the housecarl opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was going to say something. Instead he chose to turn on his heel and march himself out of the library and through the front doors, finally leaving her to another few minutes of peace and quiet.

Her shoulder was already throbbing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miiiiight eventually throw some fluff and smut in here sometime, it's gonna be a slow burn, folks.


End file.
